Life Through A Lense
by uncorazonquebrado
Summary: ON HIATUS. Blair gets her hands on surveillance footage from the Bass household. Apparently no one ever told her what curiosity did to the cat. Loosely based on a prompt by GGirl-CB4BW. Pre-series/AU
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N** Time for a new multi-chaptered fic, I've missed writing C/B. _

_This is loosely based on a prompt by GGirl-CB4BW posted a while back. The part of it that I'm using is; Blair comes across surveillance footage from the Bass household and gets to see a different side of Chuck._

_I know that another version of this is being written by another author, BookCaseGirl, and they've both given me their blessing to write my own version of it._

_The fic will be pre-series/AU season 1. For now, Serena's still at boarding school, Blair's with Nate and Chuck is....well, Chuck ;) _

_Rated T for now, but there might be M rated scenes later on._

_**Disclaimer;** I own nothing. The title is borrowed from a Robbie Williams album._

_For Noirreigne, both for being my beta, and for encouraging me to follow my muse._

* * *

"Hey, it's Nate. Leave me a message after the beep."

Barely able to choke back a cry of frustration Blair snapped her phone shut and slipped it back into her navy, Prada purse. That was the third time in a row that her call had gone straight to voicemail and she simply did not have time for this. Frowning, she glanced down at her slim, gold wrist-watch. As expected it only cemented her suspicion that the day's schedule was quickly being delayed beyond repair due to her boyfriend's inability to answer his phone.

"That'll be fourteen dollars, Ms." The cab-driver interrupted her misery as he pulled up outside the Palace.

Sparing a glance at the tall, majestic building Blair rummaged through her bag in search of her wallet, and handed the driver a twenty through the tiny window. "Keep the change," she sighed, and pushed the door open. Stepping out unto the busy sidewalk she was immediately swept in a heavy blanket of humidity. It was an unusually warm summer's day in New York, and she cursed the day's stupid event that had forced her to return from her breezy stay in the Hamptons more than a week before school was due to start. A barely there gust of wind played with the ruffle of her white blouse as she headed for the entrance but it did little to diminish the suffocating heat. A male concierge looked up when she passed by, offering her an appreciative smile that she deftly ignored. The air-conditioned atmosphere of the lobby had her relaxing a little and her shoulders losing some of their tension, but she was still far from relaxed as she made her way over to the elevators.

Once inside the elevator she tried Nate on his cell. Voicemail, _again_. This time as her frustration peaked; she couldn't keep an exasperated huff from escaping her lungs. Giving herself a scrutinizing once-over in the mirrored wall of the compartment, she quickly adjusted her floral-print headband and pulled a hand through her dark locks. When the bell chimed, signaling her arrival on the right floor, she was once again the picture of calm.

Standing outside 1812 she sucked in one last deep breath, and knocked on the door. Three short, raps against the wood later she exhaled while waiting for the door to be opened. When moments passed without any sign of life behind the door, she knocked again. Harder this time, using the heel of her hand. She'd be damned if she'd have grazed knuckles on top of everything else. By the time the door was finally opened she was seething, and her impatience only grew at the sight of Chuck dressed in nothing but silk pajamas and robe, and with his signature smirk firmly in place.

"Waldorf, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Chuck drawled lazily, gaze trailing her form in the non-subtle way she associated with her boyfriend's best friend.

"Spare me the smarminess, Bass." She snapped, brushing past him as she walked into the suite; expecting to find Nate asleep on the couch; hung-over and ready to apologize.

The couch was empty.

Confused, she looked around the room in search for him, listening closely to hear if the shower was running in the bathroom. Nothing. "Where's Nate?" She turned to Chuck who was still standing by the open door with a look of barely concealed amusement on his face. "He was supposed to go out with you last night, and now he's not answering his phone."

"Nathaniel didn't grace my humble abode with his presence last night," Chuck shrugged, closing the door and strolling over to the couch where he picked up a glass filled with something that looked like orange juice from the coffee table and took a drink.

"Wha-, why?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow in reaction to her ineloquence, an infuriating smile still playing on his lips. "Your precious boyfriend went sailing with the Captain," he told her, putting the glass back down with a look in the direction of the open laptop on the table, "He had to postpone our initial plans of debauchery for a later date."

Blair froze; her frustration melting into a lump of cold, hard disappointment that lodged itself in her chest. Chuck looked up from the screen at her lack of response. "Trouble in Paradise?"

"Not at all. I'm only surprised he hasn't called to let me know." She replied with forced casualness, "We had plans. And he was supposed to come to my mother's party with me tonight."

She could barely keep the distress she felt out of her voice. The dinner alone was cause for a huge amount of stress, and showing up without Nate would only bring about a hundred questions and an earful from her mother. Not to mention the fact that Nate hadn't called her even though he'd known they had plans; both for shopping and for the party. "His phone must have run out of battery."

"Right," Chuck drawled, sitting down on the couch, the tone of his voice letting her know exactly how unlikely he found her explanation.

With Chuck sitting with his back to her, she allowed herself a moment with her eyes closed, stuffing the raging disappointment away for later. A sound of amusement from Chuck seconds later brought her back to reality and she caught a sight of something playing in black and white on the screen of his lap top. "What are you watching?"

"I thought you said you were in a hurry," Chuck replied, reaching out to pause the video.

"Well, I'm not anymore, am I?" She retorted glumly, taking a seat next to him, but keeping her distance. There were white, paper CD cases and various disks spread out all over the coffee table. Curious in spite of her better judgment, she reached out for one of the cases. "What is all this?"

"Didn't they ever tell you what happened to the cat?" He replied, and she shot him a glare.

"Bass."

"Bart has had the surveillance footage edited and organized," Chuck explained, nodding in direction of the table, "I found these in his safe and figured I'd have a look."

"Stalking innocent hotel guests, that's unusually creepy even for you," Blair offered, absentmindedly playing with the paper case in her hands.

"There are certain areas of the place that I wouldn't mind an eye in," Chuck smirked, "the spa, for example."

"You're heinous," She huffed, sending him a disapproving look that he ignored;

"Sadly, I have yet to gain access to those particular archives." Chuck mused, leaning back and resting one arm atop the backrest of the couch. "This little project of my father's only covers the penthouse and my suite."

Blair startled. "He's got you monitored?" She blurted out, eyes scanning the room suspiciously. "Why?"

"He's Bart Bass. He hardly bothers with reasons." Chuck scoffed, pointing to the far end corner of the room, up by the ceiling. "Wave to the cameras, Waldorf."

Narrowing her eyes, Blair could make out the tiny lens of a security camera and immediately straightened in her seat; suddenly feeling self-conscious. "That's…Doesn't it creep you out?" She asked, turning her attention back to Chuck.

"Not much I can do about it, is there?" He shrugged, but there was a tension to his words that she didn't fail to notice. "There's another one over there," he said, nodding his head in direction of the small kitchen area.

Blair's eyes widened in disbelief. "But," she stammered, following the likeliest view of the other camera with her eyes and feeling a blush staining her cheeks. From what she knew about Chuck's father, the cameras really shouldn't come as that big a surprise, but someone having a surveillance camera in his own son's bedroom felt a little too….messed up. Especially when that son was _Chuck Bass_. Looking at it from Chuck's perspective, something she would normally avoid at all costs, she couldn't even imagine how he'd feel; knowing that his father had the possibility to watch his every move.

"I'm sure whatever film major from NYU he hired to edit the footage enjoyed himself immensely," Chuck smirked, "Not everyone can say they've gotten such insight into the arts of Chuck Bass."

"Except for half the women of New York," Blair pointed out dryly, and to her surprise found herself smiling alongside Chuck.

"Touché."

"But why are you watching it?" She wondered, leaning in for a closer look at the screen in front of them. It was divided into three squares; in the first two she could make out the couch she was currently sitting on, as well as the table, parts of the bar and the door of the suite.

"I figured I'd take the opportunity to re-live some of my finer moments," Chuck mused, and something in his voice had her attention shifting to the third square.

Slowly, her gaze fell to the lower square which she assumed was showing whatever the second camera had picked up. The paused video was in surprisingly good quality, even though it was obvious from the greenish nuances that the room had been dark at the time. It took her eyes a second to adjust, but once they did she could easily make out the shape and curve of a female in the middle of the bed; long hair flowing down the expanse of her back.

Reality dawned on her, and she whirled around to face Chuck. "Oh. My. God." She shrieked, smacking him hard on the shoulder, "I can't believe you're watching some seedy home video when I'm sitting right next to you!"

"Relax." He chuckled, getting to his feet. "Enjoy. You might learn a thing or two."

"Hardly." Blair snapped back, desperately trying to decide if looking at him, or down at the screen and the horror that was there, was worse.

"You're probably right," Chuck replied, pouring himself a fresh glass of juice from the decanter standing on a room service cart by the door.

She was about to reply when the sound of ringing interrupted them; the sound coming from Chuck's phone somewhere over by the bed. He sauntered over there, checking the caller ID unhurriedly before picking up. "Nathaniel, how's life on the high sea?"

A fresh spike of anger pierced through the heavy disappointment in Blair's chest. Scowling, she watched Chuck talking in a low tone with his back to her, laughing quietly at something her boyfriend had said. The thought irked her to no end. Why was Nate calling Chuck and not her? Letting out a frustrated sigh, she turned around to face the table in front of her instead. Nate was probably calling her next. He couldn't possibly have known that she'd be with Chuck. Thinking about it, she realized she probably hadn't been alone with him this long in years.

Dexterously keeping her eyes off the screen her gaze fell to the DVD's on the table. There was a ridiculous amount of discs scattered around. She nonchalantly reached out to rifle through the pile. Every one was labeled with two dates and she assumed they showed the start and finishing date. Most of them seemed fairly recent, so when she found one dated ten years back, she threw a brief glance over her shoulder to make sure Chuck wasn't looking, and then picked it up.

3.14.96 – 3.16.96

They'd been in Kindergarten then. What on Earth could Chuck possibly want with that one? She might even be on one of those, Blair realized, and her interest grew. There must be a whole lot of interesting stuff on them, and by that she wasn't referring to Chuck's disgusting sexual explorations. Probably more than enough to give her some insight into the mysterious life of 'Chuck Bass'. Stuff with him and Nate, for example, or other useful information. As long as she kept one eye closed and was prepared to press fast forward to avoid any unwanted visions, what harm could watching a few of them bring?

Thinking quickly, she threw a second cautious look over her shoulder. Chuck was still on the phone. Perfect. Blair hesitated for a second but then gave a mental shrug of her shoulders and not more than fifteen seconds later, a handful of DVD's were safely tucked away inside her Prada. Arranging the remaining discs in a seemingly undisturbed order, she was pleased to note that you couldn't even tell some of them were missing. Barely able to keep from grinning, she tossed her hair over her shoulder just as Chuck came walking back into view; snapping his phone shut with a final, "Later".

"He won't be back today," She said matter-of-factly, her good mood rapidly evaporating.

"No, he won't." Chuck confirmed, and Blair's face fell.

It wasn't until then that she realized how a small part of her had been holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Nate would make an effort and be back in the city in time for tonight's event. He knew how big of a deal this stupid dinner was.

"Great," she grimaced, not even the idea of getting a truckload of possible blackmailing material on her sometimes-partner in crime able to cheer her up any longer. Though she'd be damned if she let Chuck see that. "I'm sure he'll call me soon to explain."

Chuck's face was the epitome of amused disbelief.

"He'll call." She repeated icily and got to her feet, lifting her bag off the couch and slinging it over her shoulder.

Chuck shrugged, "Whatever gets you through the day."

"Leaving," She snapped, taking pleasure in the simple comfort being annoyed provided her with. Nate would call, he'd apologize and she'd forgive him once he'd done some serious groveling.

"And don't I always enjoy the view you provide while doing so," Chuck called out after her, and she let the door slam shut with a roll of her eyes.

.:¤:.

Halfway back home her irritation began to melt away; leaving room for a giddy sense of anticipation. Stepping out of the elevator and into the spacious hallway, Blair looked around for signs of her mother or Dorota, breathing a mental sigh of relief when she saw neither. She'd almost made it past the kitchen door and to the stairs when Dorota's voice cut through the silence and caused her to freeze mid-step.

"Ms. Blair, you back early."

Turning around to face the puzzled maid, Blair forced a breezy smile onto her lips. "Yes, well, there was a slight change of plans."

"I can prepare salad for lunch," Dorota offered, motioning in direction of the kitchen with an eager look on her face. "Or maybe sandwich?"

"I already ate," Blair lied effortlessly, tightening her grip of her bag and resisting the urge to tap her foot against the carpeted step of the stairs.

"Perhaps some ice tea?" The maid tried, "I made fresh this morning."

Blair realized a losing battle when she found herself in one. This was Dorota on a mission, and there would be no rest until she'd complied. She trudged down the stairs without a word and followed the maid – looking like the cat that swallowed the canary - into the kitchen. Two minutes later she hurried up the stairs, glass in hand, and closed the door of her bedroom resolutely behind her.

Settling her laptop down on top of her bedspread, she turned it on and then fished around inside her bag for the stack of DVD's. Neatly folding her legs underneath her, she spread the discs out before her; shuffling them around in search of one that would capture her interest while she waited for her laptop to process. There were at least a dozen of them; mostly labeled with dates from the last year, but some were older. Finally choosing one at random she pulled the disc from its cover and inserted it into her laptop. Moving so that she was lying stomach down on the bed, her fingers drummed impatiently against the bedspread as she waited for the disc to load.

When the window finally popped up on the screen, the rush of adrenaline through her system was immediate. They setup seemed easy enough; one folder for each day and each disc seemed to entail at least two days worth of footage. Opening one of the folders - labeled with a random date about six months ago – she found that each file in turn was labeled with initials. She quickly decided that CB was Chuck and also found one with NA that she assumed was Nate.

AF was a whole other question. Forehead wrinkling in thought, she tried to come up with anyone it could possibly be. In the end she settled for double-clicking on one of the dates labeled CB and AF. The screen came to life with the two squares in black and white, and finding a tool bar at the bottom Blair pressed 'play'.

.:¤:.

A little over an hour and a whole bunch of different files later she closed the lid of the laptop with an expression of utter disgust written all over her face. Staring moodily at the discs in front of her she seriously reconsidered her decision to take them in the first place. The past hour had been a complete waste of her time. All she'd learned about 'Chuck Bass behind the scenes' was that he was an absolute nymphomaniac. He didn't spend much time in his suite at all, actually, and the time he did seemed to consist of drinking, smoking and dragging women in there at ungodly hours of the morning. At least the question regarding the mysterious label AF had been solved, since it always seemed to come with one of Chuck's many conquests; anonymous female.

Ew.

Blair bunched the DVD's together, and stacked them away in one of the drawers of her vanity. As she did she saw the familiar cream-colored envelope at the bottom of the drawer, and unceremoniously dropped the DVD's on top of it with more force than necessary.

"Blair, have you-" Eleanor walked through the door, stopping mid-sentence as she spotted her daughter. "Is there a reason you're not getting ready?" She inquired frostily, a chunky gold bracelet dangling around her wrist as she folded her arms across her chest. "Honestly, Blair, the guest will be arriving in little over one hour."

Blair swallowed against the nervous tightness in her throat and forced herself not to look away.

"Yes mother, I'm sorry."

"Oh well," Eleanor sighed, waving her hand impatiently in direction of the bathroom, "Get going. I do expect you've told Nathaniel to be here early and accompany you while you're greeting our guests."

Blair cringed, a move not unnoticed by her mother and Eleanor's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there something I should know?"

"Nate's not coming." Blair admitted, hating the slight tremor in her voice and forcing herself to straighten her posture. "He's gone sailing with the Captain."

"Pardon?" Eleanor scowled, "Why didn't you tell him how important tonight is?!"

"I did," Blair replied tiredly.

"This simply won't due." Her mother frowned, "There will be an empty seat at the table, surely there must be someone whom you could invite in Nathaniel's place."

"I could ask Kati," Blair agreed slowly, "I don't think there's anyone else who's back in town already," she added, not particularly keen on spending time with one of her minions, and especially not in front of her friend's parents who she knew would be in attendance.

"Blair, please be serious," Eleanor snapped, "You're not bringing one of your girlfriends as your date. That's preposterous. How about Charles?"

Blair looked at her mother in stunned disbelief. "Mother, you must be joking," she finally managed to choke out. "You want me to invite Chuck to your dinner? Do you not care about what people will say? I might as well hire a male escort!"

"I am well aware of your friend's questionable reputation," Eleanor retorted dryly, "But Mr. Dawkin and Elise," she continued, a smug note working its way into her voice as she mentioned the ambassador and his wife, "Are new to the city and will most likely only recognize Charles by his last name."

"Mother -" Blair objected, panic growing in her chest as she desperately tried to come up with an excuse – _anything_ – to convince her mother into changing her mind.

"That's enough, Blair," Eleanor cut her off, "You will call Charles right this minute and make sure he escorts you to the party tonight, and that's the end of this discussion. Had you made sure Nate was staying in town, you wouldn't have put us in this situation in the first place."

With those words Eleanor turned on her heels and left the room in a cloud of silk; leaving Blair standing by the vanity and staring into thin air with a growing sense of doom. Curling her fingers against her palms she fought the urge to scream in frustration. This wasn't happening. Throwing a disdainful glare in the direction of her phone, she pursed her lips in frustration as she contemplated her options. Coming up with none, apart from her mother's ridiculous solution to 'their' problem, she let out a weary sigh and picked up the device from where it lain on her bed.

She pushed the number in slowly, hoping with each digit that her mother would return and profess it all to have been a horrible joke. When no such thing happened she pressed 'call', praying to whatever deity that might be listening that Chuck wouldn't pick up. Unfortunately, that didn't turn out to be the case.

"Waldorf," Chuck's voice greeted her, "Missing me already?"

Blair bit her lip to keep the less agreeable reply burning on her tongue from spilling out, and exhaled slowly before speaking.

"I need a favor."

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_TBC?!_

_Thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N** Thank you so much for the amazing feedback guys! The reviews/alerts made my day. This next chapter took longer than planned, apparently writer's block and a new multi-chap doesn't mix very well._

_Thanks to Robin for the beta!_

_Time for a date, and a tape ;)_

* * *

Blair frowned; wrinkles forming on her forehead while she turned sideways in front of the mirror, using one hand to smooth down the fabric covering her stomach. The dress did nothing for her figure. Or rather, _she _looked hideous, the dress was beautiful. That left no other options than the dress hanging on a hanger on the bathroom door. Funny, it seemed her entire day was going to circle around back-ups and change of plans. She took a few steps back and out of view of the mirror as she unzipped the discarded dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of yellow chiffon. But then she changed her mind and forced herself to pause as she walked past the mirror. Swallowing, she refused to look away as she stared herself down in the reflection of the glass; her insides bunching together in knots. The tan she'd gotten during her summer in the Hamptons suddenly looked grayish and dull, there were bags under her eyes and her thighs looked huge. No wonder Nate seemed so reluctant to take their relationship to another level. She wouldn't be so keen on it if she had her frumpy self for a girlfriend either.

Disgusted with her own appearance, Blair finally allowed herself to look away and quickly pulled the pale blue, cotton dress over her head. The intricate hemstitch stopped a few inches above her knees, and the cinched waist together with the v-shaped neckline hid enough of her to be satisfying. She deliberately kept from examining herself more closely in the mirror as she put a silk headband in her hair and stepped into her shoes.

She'd do just about anything to bury herself under the covers of her bed, in spite of the suffocating heath, and watch Tiffany's instead of attending her mother's dinner party. Knowing Chuck would be her date only added to her sense of dread. He'd been even smarmier than usual on the phone, and knowing that she did in fact owe him for this irked her to no end. Who knew what kind of depraved favor he'd be asking of her? From what she'd seen on the tapes earlier, it was bound to be either disgusting or illegal.

There was a knock at the door, and Dorota stepped inside after her reluctant 'come in'.

"Guests are coming soon, Ms Blair." She announced, "Ms Eleanor want you downstairs."

"I'll be right down," Blair replied glumly, and turned around to follow the maid when something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She stopped in her steps, picking up her ruby ring from where it laid on the table of her vanity and slipped it on her finger. Feeling a little better with her favorite accessory in place, she walked out of her room without another look in the mirror.

The first guests were already arriving as she made her way down the stairs. Forcing a smile on her lips Blair readied herself for an evening of mind-numbingly boring small-talk and Chuck's sleazy innuendos.

"How nice of you to join us," Eleanor scoffed before turning to the ambassador's wife with the smile Blair thought of as her mother's work-smile plastered on her face. "Elise, you look absolutely radiant!"

Elise Dawkins was the epitome of a trophy wife. Her husband, the British ambassador, was at least twenty years her senior, and completely smitten with his young wife, her hourglass shape and mane of golden hair. Blair knew that the woman was no one her mother would ever voluntarily socialize with, but the twenty-something blonde was an it-girl in the making and Eleanor Waldorf realized good business when she saw it.

Her mother's gushing was only cut off by the arrival of Kati's parents and another couple, and Blair couldn't keep from sparing a glance in the direction of the antique clock a few feet away. Chuck had promised to be there, but apparently she shouldn't have assumed that would mean he'd be there on time.

With an inviting wave of her arm, Eleanor guided the guests through the open glass doors and out onto the terrace stretching around the apartment. Dorota hurried by with a tray filled with drinks, and Blair quickly grabbed one before the maid made it outside outside.

Twenty minutes later she'd made her round of greetings and finished her drink, but there was still no sign of Chuck. Her unease had turned more into irritation with each sip she'd taken from her glass, and she could barely keep from tapping her foot against the stone tiles as she tried to keep her focus on the conversation she was trying to have with one of her mother's guests.

"…but with the market the way…." The man droned on, but his tedious rant faded into the background as something caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

Chuck was making his way out onto the terrace, and Eleanor was making her way over to the late guest. Panic building in her gut, Blair quickly excused herself from her dreadful company and hurried over to the two of them. Eleanor was looking less than pleased with the lack of etiquette on Blair's date's behalf, but Chuck was looking his usual self-assured self. Walking by a group of people talking and enjoying their drinks, Blair watched Chuck shake her mother's hand, lips quirking into a smile as he spoke. To her surprise, by the time she walked up to where the two of them were standing, Eleanor was almost smiling at something Chuck had said.

"Blair, there you are," her mother said without taking her eyes off Chuck, the steel returning to her voice.

"Where have you been?" Blair fired off the question as soon as her mother had turned her back on them and returned to her guests, "You were supposed to be here ages ago."

"Dying for my company, Waldorf? I get that a lot."

"The only one dying here would have been you, had you been any later."

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your guests?" He asked, and the look he sent in Elise Dawkins' direction made it clear whom he meant when he said guests.

"Not if I can help it."

Chuck shot her an amused look, eyes crinkling in amusement, "But I'm your date."

"You're more of a last resort."

"Please, I'm a first class, private island," he drawled, "Now if you excuse me, I see someone in need of a retreat-"

Blair reacted on pure instinct, her nails digging into his lower arm as she reached out to stop him from walking away. "Bass," she ground out warningly.

Chuck's smirk grew, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as he tugged his arm free and strolled over to Elise and the two women the blonde was talking with. Blair watched him go, her frustration growing by the second. A ridiculously see-through comment, some hand kissing and within a minute the three women were practically eating out of the palm of his hand. It was highly disturbing, Blair decided, as she accepted another drink from the tray Dorota was holding out for her, thanking the maid with a distracted hand gesture and returning her attention to Chuck and the group of women. Honestly, it was like watching a farce.

She took another sip from her glass, puzzled when she realized the flute was close to empty. Frowning lightly, she put the expensive glass down on a small side table. She couldn't afford to get buzzed; she had a man-whore to babysit.

"You might want to slow down on the cocktails."

Her mother spoke from behind her, and Blair straightened guiltily as Eleanor walked up next to her. "Yes, mother, you're right."

"Charles seems to be making up for being late," Eleanor replied, throwing a look over at Chuck and his harem. "Why aren't you over there with your date?"

Blair opened her mouth to defend herself, but Dorota chose that second to walk up to Eleanor and let her know dinner was ready and waiting to be served. Clapping her hands together merrily, Eleanor announced the news and one by one the guests walked through the open glass doors and into the decorated dining room. Chuck walked by, feigning interest in whatever Elise Dawkins was chattering about next to him, winking in Blair's direction. The ambassador followed, looking slightly chagrined, and Blair was quick to get moving and engage the man in conversation as they got seated, fuming on the inside while doing so. To her immense relief, Chuck was seated nowhere near the blonde but instead sat next to Blair herself. Though that did little to stop his gaze from travelling to the woman much too often during the first course.

"Do you mind? I'm losing my appetite." Blair asked through gritted teeth, shuffling a piece of salmon another lap around her plate. She could feel her mother's eyes on her, and finally gave in; piercing a small piece on her fork and lifting it to her mouth.

"Mind what? I'm enjoying my fish," Chuck replied innocently, having a taste of the wine, and Blair took the opportunity to lower her fork again as she opened her mouth to speak;

"Unless your fish has blonde hair and a boob job, you're lying," Blair pointed out, a sense of giddy relief washing over her as she felt her mother's attention shift in another direction, lured into false belief that she was eating. Unfortunately, her joy turned out to be short lived.

"And," Chuck added calmly, with another lingering look in the blonde's direction, "we both know your lack of 'appetite'," he spoke the last word mockingly, "has nothing to do with my presence."

Blair froze, shame coloring her cheeks crimson against her will. Damn him and his misguided attentiveness. He'd barely looked her way since they sat down, but of course he'd noticed _that_.

"I'm not hungry," She replied, and might have gotten away with the lie had her stomach not chosen that very second to rumble quietly.

"Somehow I find myself in doubt of that."

His words had the color draining from her face, and Blair looked up from her plate to meet his gaze head on. He looked strangely annoyed and for once looked solely on her.

"You'll live through not being right for once," she snapped, and with that turned her back to him as much as the seating arrangements allowed. "Mr. Anderson, you simply must explain more about the project you were telling me about earlier."

.:¤:.

Blair stifled a yawn, hiding it behind her hand and pretended to brush a curl back from her face. They had left the table after dessert over an hour ago, and she was doing her best to telepathically convince her mother's guests to go home. This might possibly be one of the most boring and drawn out dinner parties she'd ever been forced to attend, or perhaps it was the company making her evening such a screaming failure.

Lack of company actually, she mentally corrected herself, looking around the room for Chuck. Unable to spot him anywhere, she let out a frustrated huff, wishing for the umpteenth time that Nate had been there. At least then she could've brought him back to her room for a little while. The thought of spending alone time with her boyfriend had her smiling bitterly to herself - absentmindedly picking at her nail polish as she listened in on the conversations around her - they hadn't had much of that lately

"Albert, where are you hiding that divine wife of yours?" her mother was asking the ambassador who replied something indecipherable behind his quite impressive moustache. "I have a few sketches I'd like for her to see before you leave."

The question brought Blair out of her own thoughts. She couldn't see the blonde anywhere, and there was no sound of her obnoxious laughter either. Blair would've never thought she'd miss that grating sound, but she'd give her right hand for the noise right now.

Her suspicion growing by the second, Blair quietly left the room and walked in direction of the entrance hallway. The bathroom was empty, and there was no sign of either the blonde bimbo or her so called 'date' anywhere. She climbed the stairs in a feigned air of nonchalance, concentrating on the way her fingers slid against the polished wood of the handrail instead of contemplating what she might find once she got upstairs.

Unfortunately the stairs came to an end - and so did her blissful ignorance – because the first thing she spotted from the landing was Elise Dawkins tip-toeing out of her mother's second guest room.

It took the older woman a few steps before she noticed Blair, but when she did she froze; for a second looking like the epitome of a deer caught in headlights before regaining her composure. Not saying a word she quickened her pace and hurried past Blair; disappearing down the stairs. The latter could only follow her descent with incredulous eyes.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Blair sent up a silent prayer that Elise had only been using the bathroom. But when the sound of a door being opened could be heard in the otherwise silent corridor, her eyes flew open. Chuck was walking out into the hallway, looking much to pleased with himself, and from the very same room Elise had left not two minutes earlier. As he spotted Blair over by the stairs, his smirk widened, and he walked over to her with his hands in his pockets.

The look on his face had been more than enough to kill every last shred of hope in Blair, and her shock morphed into anger with lightning's speed.

"Waldorf," Chuck greeted her, coming to a halt beside her and craning his neck to see down the stairs, looking for his latest conquest, no doubt.

"Tell me you did not just harass the ambassador's wife in my mother's guest room," Blair bit out angrily, hands balling into fists.

"It hardly qualifies as harassment when someone's begging for more,"

"I can't believe you!" she hissed quietly, throwing a cautious look around the empty floor.

"If you want proof that can be arranged." Chuck shrugged, reaching for his pocket and pulling out his slim cell phone.

"I'd like to keep my dinner," Blair snapped, putting a hand on his to stop him and then retracting it hastily. Who knew where it had been. Yuck. "What were you thinking?! She's married!"

"A trivial detail."

"Chuck!" Blair nearly stomped her foot in frustration. "What if someone had walked in on you?"

Chuck shrugged, "Hazards of the trade."

Blair forced herself to take a deep breath. "Both my mother and the ambassador was wondering where you were," she spat, struggling to keep her voice down. She should have known inviting him had been a lousy idea. She should've lied to her mother. "What if one of them had come up here instead of me?"

"No one did," Chuck replied, but then continued "Besides, the ambassador and Elise have a very…open marriage, or so I've been told."

"Would you stop being such an insolent pig?" Blair replied, trying to rid her brain of the image of the ambassador in any kind of open marriage situation.

"Would _you_ calm down?" Chuck retorted, the contented look on his face fading.

He had some nerve telling her that. "You're supposed to be _my_ date, Chuck."

Her words seemed to be the last drop for him. The amused look in his eyes died, leaving room for something much colder, darker. "Jealous you didn't get an invite?" he sneered, "Had I known you planned on shedding the Ice Queen role and putting out for once, I'd been sure to have you tag along."

"That's not what I was saying," Blair objected, pretending the words didn't sting.

"What exactly _are_ you saying? Because last time I checked, my private affairs are none of your business, and this whole righteous act is getting a little old."

"It is my business," Blair hissed, her voice growing in volume as her frustration reached new levels. "When you pick up a married woman at my _mother's_ party, when you're supposed to be _my_ date. What if this gets out? Do you know what people will say about me? My mother? Don't you ever think about anyone but yourself?"

"Now-" Chuck opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off;

"Of course you don't, you're Chuck Bass. You don't care about anyone but yourself! How silly of me to think that you might help me out just this once."

"Very," Chuck agreed coolly, something in his eyes tightening and making it hard to keep eye contact. Blair swallowed, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. They were still staring at each other in silence when voices drifted up the stairs and Eleanor walked out into the downstairs hallway with a group of her guests on their way home.

"I'd say that's my cue." Chuck acknowledged frostily, "If your majesty agrees. The third degree is kind of a buzz kill."

Blair didn't reply, only stared straight ahead as he walked past her –taking an extra step to the side to ensure their shoulders didn't brush together – and made his way down the stairs. She heard him say goodnight to her mother, Eleanor chuckling quietly at something he'd said, and then he was gone with the ding of the elevator.

She let out a breath, not realizing until then that she'd barely been breathing since their exchange. Exhaustion set in as the air left her lungs, weighing down heavily on her shoulders. For a few seconds she let the feeling wash over her before reining it back in; straightening her shoulders and making her way down the stairs. Ignoring the questioning look from her mother she spent the next twenty minutes saying goodbye to their guests, and concentrating on the anger simmering in her gut. No one was allowed to risk humiliating her like that. She would get him back, but how? Blair mulled the question over as she bid her mother goodnight and walked up the stairs on tired feet, but it wasn't until she walked through the door of her bedroom and spotted her laptop still on the bed that she came up with a plan.

She'd look at the tapes again. There had to be something on one of those that she could use against him – hit the slimy bastard where it hurt. Determined, she changed out of her clothes and washed off her make-up quickly, pulling a dressing gown over her slip before leaning back against the headboard with the computer on her lap and a new DVD in her hand.

Opening a folder on random, Blair got to work. Studiously avoiding the ones labeled with the acronym AF, she fast forwarded through clips of Chuck doing nothing worthy of blackmail material at all. It wasn't until she opened the third file in the folder and spotted her own initials that she took notice of the dates she'd been watching footage from. Her stomach dropped; it was the first time she'd be watching herself on any of the tapes and even though she might have wished for something other than what she was sure to find on this one - she was curious. It wasn't like she remembered much of that particular night anyway. She cringed at the vague memory, thanking whatever deity around that she'd chosen to go about her business by herself and never invited any of the girls to join her.

She'd been so tired. So confused.

She had been struggling to keep it all in for weeks; shrugging off the questions of her so-called-best-friend's whereabouts, dealing with Nate's distant behavior and pretending like your father leaving your mother for a French model really wasn't that big of a deal. Even if said model was a man. Throat aching and tears suddenly burning behind her eyes, Blair quickly shoved the thoughts back into a box at the back of her head, sucked in a deep breath and double-clicked on the thumbnail.

She remembered being at a club, talking to some guy or maybe there had been more than one. Drinking and dancing and drinking some more. Then the vague feeling of nausea; panic setting in as the numbing buzz started to fade away. Harsh lights blinding her. She'd called Nate, she remembered that much, but then nothing.

She still couldn't remember anything between dialing Nate's number and waking up on the couch of 1812 to a smarmier-than-usual Chuck. The memory still made her blush. Apparently Nate hadn't wanted to take her home, didn't want to risk waking her mother or Dorota up in the middle of the night, so he'd dropped her off at Chuck's. She'd been mad at him about that, asking why he hadn't taken her to his place but only gotten a mumbled excuse that "he'd been borrowing Chuck's limo anyway."

It had been nice of him to look after her; Blair smiled at the idea as the film began playing on the screen. Maybe she shouldn't be so hard on him when he got back from sailing with the Captain, perhaps she owed him that much. She watched herself stumble into view with baited breath, squirming at the sight of her own mussed hair and uncoordinated movements, waiting for Nate to appear on the screen. But the character walking up to her and reaching out to steady her swaying form wasn't her boyfriend. It was Chuck.

Mouth dropping open in shock, Blair watched herself gratefully accept the offered support and throw her arms around Chuck's neck, hiding her face from the camera's view as he walked them over to the couch and pushed her down into a sitting position. She fell back against the backrest, head rolling to the side, as Chuck bent down and pulled her shoes off her feet. He seemed to have said something then, because suddenly her head snapped back up, and Blair watched as a frown formed on her face. The movie version got to her feet and from the look of it she was yelling something at Chuck.

Confused beyond words, Blair stared at the screen barely able to comprehend what she was seeing. The Blair on screen had moved nearly out of view, and was seemingly screaming at the top of her lungs. The sight stirred something at the back of her mind, and for a second she could picture Chuck's face in front of her; looking at her in something achingly close to concern.

On the screen the screaming was still going strong, but then she saw herself stumble and nearly fall for the second time. As she regained her balance her face seemed to crumble and before Blair could get over the fact that she was acting like a drunken thirteen year-old - the Blair on screen was stumbling over to Chuck and crashing into him. He looked startled at first, but then slowly wrapped an arm around her shaking back, moving the two of them back down to a sitting position again.

Blair watched herself cling to the person she'd least expected to see offer anyone any kind of comfort not involving drugs, sex or alcohol for several minutes. It looked like she'd dozed off after that, and Blair saw Chuck carefully lay her down on the couch and throwing a blanket over her unconscious form. When the Blair on screen reached out for his arm as he began to walk away, Blair jumped. Apparently she hadn't been asleep after all.

Expecting Chuck not to bother, she was surprised to see him sit back down on the floor beside the couch as her drunken self let her head fall back against the cushions. Minutes passed, and neither Chuck nor herself moved except for the few times Chuck turned his head to look at her. It wasn't until he got back to his feet a few minutes later that she noticed they'd been holding hands the entire time. Blushing, even though she had no memory of that particular detail, she watched him stretch languidly and pull the blanket closer around her sleeping self before heading for the bathroom and disappearing out of view.

Static filled the screen, it was the signal the camera had shut off temporarily; waiting for another sign of movement inside the room. Blair sat like a statue in the bed, an overwhelming feeling of _wrong_ growing in her gut. It made no sense. Deep in thought, she jumped when the screen cleared and the film began playing again. With a sense of déjà vu, she watched herself stumble from the couch and in the direction of the bathroom, she'd barely left the frame when Chuck woke up with a start and sat up in bed. He looked around, rubbing his face with his hand, before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

Another hazy memory resurfaced in her mind as she watched Chuck get out of bed. She remembered now, brief glimpses of memory flashing through her mind; never-ending nausea, the vague notion of someone talking quietly in the background, not being completely alone anymore. The next time the two of them appeared in view Chuck was carrying her, bridal style and from the look of it she'd passed out. Again.

And Chuck had been _carrying_ her. Had there been no end to her levels of humiliation that night?

Finally having had too much, Blair closed the lid of her laptop shut with a bang and sat on the bed, staring out into nothing while she waited for something, anything, to make sense again. She felt sick. None of what she'd seen made any sense. Where had Nate been? Why wasn't he there and why had they both told her he'd been the one helping her? And who was the Chuck Bass she'd just seen on that tape?

* * *

_Thoughts?!_


End file.
